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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036870">Why Merry Went Around the Sky</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/soganotojikoRecords/pseuds/soganotojikoRecords'>soganotojikoRecords</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Touhou Project</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Netorare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:02:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,590</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036870</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/soganotojikoRecords/pseuds/soganotojikoRecords</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Merry goes to Comic Market, but she doesn't buy anything there.</p><p>メリーが空回ったその理由</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maribel Hearn &amp; Usami Renko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Why Merry Went Around the Sky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Usami Renko is talking to someone other than me. </p><p>My eyes remain fixed to the scene of Renko laughing along with a girl I do not know at the back of the lecture hall. The sight invokes in me an emotion I do not quite know how to describe. </p><p>A cough from behind interrupts my thoughts. I realize I’ve been blocking the doorway, so I move away. I head towards the unoccupied seat next to Renko. She finally notices me when I’m only a few steps away and waves to me. I notice the other person looking at me as well but I keep my eyes strictly fixed to Renko. I hesitate to ask what’s on my mind though, so I only smile back and take my seat. As I take off my cardigan, Renko turns around to talk to the girl behind her again. It took me all of my willpower to not stare at the two of them. </p><p>Before long the professor enters the room, his presence interrupts Renko’s conversation. Finally the lecture begins. </p><p>A few minutes into the lecture, my curiosity got the better of me so I whisper. “Who was that?”</p><p>Renko answers nonchalantly, “She’s from accounting. She was asking if I had done the assignment for this class.” </p><p>“Did you?”</p><p>“Nah. I’ll wait until the day it’s due to work on it. This stuff’s easy enough.”</p><p>I frown at her self-brag. Although this class, Quantitative Research Methods, is one of the few electives both of us could take together, she’s a STEM major and I’m not. I have to actually pay attention to understand what’s being taught. </p><p>Silence falls between us as I listen to the professor and Renko does not. </p><p>On a whim I comment back, “She seems nice.” </p><p>“You think so?” From the corner of my vision I see her turn to look at me, eyebrows raised.  </p><p>But this time I didn't respond. Bored with my unresponsiveness, Renko flips her gaze upwards to the ceiling. </p><p>I always wonder what’s on Renko’s mind. She seems so carefree that it’s hard to read her.  </p><p>Is she thinking into why I’m asking her about this?</p><p>Is she thinking about what’s on my mind?</p><p>Maybe what’s on my mind isn’t important enough for her. I wouldn’t know. </p><p>“Wait a bit. You wrote the proof of the theorem wrong.” My thoughts are interrupted as Renko reaches out with her pen towards the page I am writing on. “You put the sign over here.”</p><p>I look at her handwriting as she writes a little explanation to go along with my notes. It was sloppy and clumsy, but very readable. As if she notices where I’m staring at though, Renko’s hand slows down and her letters become more deliberate, more clean. </p><p>“You can erase and rewrite it if you want.”</p><p>Even though she says that, I have no intention to do so.</p><p>Once class ends and everyone is packing up, Renko turns to me. “Want me to come over and tutor you tonight?” </p><p>She’s looking at me. Not at the girl she was laughing with before class nor anyone else in class. Just me. </p><p>Renko has a lighthearted smile on her face. The kind she wears when she sees that things are going as planned. Her eyes tell me she already knows what my answer will be. And I already know what her real intentions are for coming over. And she knows that I know it too. </p><p>“Sure, let’s."</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>The two of us, Usami Renko and I are members of a university circle group known as the Necromancers’ Club. </p><p>The only two, in fact. So every time we hang out together, it counts as a circle meeting.</p><p>“Let us commence our 256th circle meeting!” Renko loudly declares as she bursts through the door of my apartment. She has come earlier than we agreed on, but I have gotten used to that. </p><p>“Last time you said it was our 425th meeting, was it?” On the surface we’re a circle for spirit mediums but with that said, our activities don’t involve anything particularly medium-like. The name is just there to sound mysterious. Our meeting counts likewise are equally as bogus. </p><p>Renko invites herself in, takes off her shoes, grabs the tea kettle and pours a cup for herself as she walks over to sit next to me. She places her cup next to mine.</p><p>Then she hands me a set of three photos. </p><p>My eyes quickly glance through them in order. “Two of these are duds. The third picture though, looks like it might have something.” I hand them back. The only picture I found interesting depicted a neighboring university campus's red-brick building. “The color of the atmosphere in this one looks different.”</p><p>Renko’s eyes light up. “That’s where we’re heading tonight then.”</p><p>The true purpose of this circle are the excursions that Renko plans for us. We go around looking for certain ‘special places’. Graveyards, abandoned buildings, shrines, even normal residential areas if there’s an interesting rumor surrounding it. Anywhere that seems weird and illogical enough, we'll go to. As for what makes them special, well...</p><p>My eyes can see the ‘boundaries’ of this world. It’s difficult to put into words and explain what that means, but in essence I can tell when something may be supernatural and out of this world when I look at it. That’s not quite right, but it is functionally the same as being able to do so.</p><p>To Renko, my eyes are priceless. She calls them creepy from time to time, but her eyes glow with excitement whenever she looks at mine. She shows me interesting things once every few days hoping my vision might shed some new light on it or something. That’s really what our circle activities amount to, looking for things my eyes can see. If my eyes couldn’t see the supernatural, we wouldn’t be going out. </p><p>I frown. “What happened to tutoring me?”</p><p>“Oof, right. I forgot about that.” Renko laughs sheepishly, like a child caught in the middle of pulling a harmless prank “How about we put that off for later? You know, like, I can just do the work for you or something...” </p><p>I narrow my eyes. When it doesn’t involve the occult, she really does lose all interest. “Oh my, what a shame. Suddenly I seem to be a little under the weather. Maybe I won’t be able to come with you tonight after all...”</p><p>“I will teach you to the best of my ability, ma’am!” </p><p>“Very good.”</p><p>Renko prompts me to spread open my notebook and show her. The sight of all these numbers written down on the page irritates me, but getting to study together with her is well worth the headache. </p><p>Renko walks me through the logic behind the theorem, demonstrating to me how each step of the proof leads to the next. I sit and watch her slender fingers grip her pen, dancing deftly across the page like a performance while leaving pen marks below. If I look closely at those marks on the page, I could even read them. </p><p>My thoughts are fully occupied with Renko, how refined her movements are, how mesmerizing she is to behold. This feeling that fills me at this exact moment is...</p><p>“Did that make sense?” Her voice brings me back to reality. </p><p>I panic. These days I can’t seem to concentrate very well. Not a word of her explanation has entered my head. “I’m sorry, one more time.”</p><p>But she only smiles and nods warmly despite my incompetence. The patience she must have to deal with someone like me, it astounds me. Even though the material we’re dealing with must be so basic and trivial to her, she still takes the effort to teach me seriously.</p><p>I envy how logical Renko is, to be able to grasp all this so easily.  </p><p>After an hour going at it, we decided to take a break. </p><p>When we’re alone together with nothing else to do, we talk about whatever comes to mind. Usually Renko starts the conversation, and then I respond with a snarky reply. If we compare how often she starts the conversation to how often I do, there’s a gross imbalance in our relationship. However she seems to be happy to have someone listen to her, and so am I.</p><p>“You know, the other day I was talking to…” Every so often though, Renko brings up other people that she talks to. Her other friends. For a math nerd who’s into the occult, Usami Renko has a lot of people she can talk to. She’s proactive and energetic, she’s a pleasant person to be around, so that’s only natural. </p><p>Of course someone as rational as Renko is bound to be accepted by others. </p><p>Renko likes to talk about her friends because she enjoys spending time with them, the same way she enjoys being with me. There’s no hidden or malicious intent behind it, I am well aware. </p><p>That didn’t calm the whirl of emotions that stir my heart whenever I think of her talking to someone else. If Renko wasn’t right next to me, surely I would not be able to resist the urge to hunch forward and clutch my chest to act out the pain I feel. But I mustn’t show it, so I restrain myself. It takes all of my willpower just to nod and smile along. </p><p>Renko quickly glances out the window. “Seems like it’s time. Wanna go?” </p><p>Immediately my thoughts lighten up. I nod back eagerly.  </p><p>We head outside. At this time of the year, the air is just a little chilly at night. For Renko, a shawl over her shoulders is enough. I put on a light cardigan over my light purple dress. </p><p>As we walk down the leaf-covered concrete footwalk I ask her, “What time is it? I haven’t been looking at my phone.”</p><p>Again, Renko glances up to the night sky. “19:48:02. They probably don’t close their gates until ten or something, so let’s just sneak in quickly and have you look around.”</p><p>Renko likes to keep herself light when she goes outside, so everything that she carries around she keeps in her skirt pockets. As for me, I carry a small white shoulder bag. I keep my keys and phone and wallet in it, and occasionally things Renko doesn’t have space for too. </p><p>Renko swings her arms freely as she walks while I keep mine close by, lightly gripping the shoulder strap of my bag. On our way we passed by a couple of students here or there, probably on their way home or elsewhere. I wonder if they could tell we’re students from a different university. More importantly I wonder what they’d think of two young women walking together on a late autumn night like this .</p><p>As our destination comes into sight, Renko’s pace hastens. I find her pulling me by the sleeve as she smiles at me. “We’re here! Let’s hurry in.”</p><p>I don’t resist, I smile back. Despite what any outsider might think about us, this is our current dynamic and I find it comfortable.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>There is a small outdoor terrace cafe in an alleyway near our campus. It needs a little detour to get to, but the lighting here is bright and pleasant and the owner’s taste in music is impeccable so we come here to eat lunch often. </p><p>On the opposite side of the table, Renko is pouting while staring at our club activities log.</p><p>“It’s rude to leave your spoon hanging in your mouth, you know.” I tell her.</p><p>“Ah, right. Sorry.” Renko puts it back on her plate. The spoon, not our activities log. </p><p>“By that, I meant that it’s also rude to be so focused on reading while you’re eating. Or while we’re talking.” I let a little irritation slip into my voice. Pay more attention to me, I would’ve liked to say. </p><p>Renko closes her notes. “Sorry. I was just a tad bothered over last night.”</p><p>“You mean when we didn’t find anything special at that campus?”</p><p>“Yeah. Well, I guess it’s not just that. Our last few ventures haven’t been very successful. I was just feeling a little discouraged, that’s all.” Renko laughs it off and tries to reassure me with her smile.</p><p>I couldn’t laugh it off. I’ve been worrying over this exact issue for a while too. Even with my eyes, it’s not like we always find something that’d pique Renko’s interest every time we go out. What if Renko gets bored of our excursions and stops them? I can’t let that happen. </p><p>If nothing else, I attempt to cheer her up. “We can try to figure it out at our next meeting. That’d make it what, our 458th meeting?”</p><p>“674th actually, but thanks.” Renko doesn’t look very cheerful, but at least her facial muscles have relaxed. For the time being, I took that to be enough.  </p><p>We spend the rest of our lunch quietly. </p><p>Just as I was about to think of something to say, Renko suddenly stands up. “Anyway, I’m heading off.” </p><p>I give her a confused look. “What for?”</p><p>“You remember that girl from our shared class? She’s asked me for help so I’m going to tutor her.” </p><p>My heart drops. Immediately an unpleasant weight spreads in my chest and I feel it pulling me down. </p><p>“I-is that right?” I try to keep my voice calm. “The one who seems nice?” </p><p>“Yeah, her.” Renko nods. She makes a face like she’s just thought of a great idea. “I think you’d get along with her well, actually. If you’re interested.”</p><p>I cover my mouth with the napkin I’m holding. I don’t think I can resist the urge to frown at the very thought. As if I’m interested in talking to your friends. “Maybe next time, Renko.”</p><p>What’s with that happy look on your face? Just a moment ago you were looking down while eating with me. Now that you’re heading off to play with some other girl, you’re all smiles? Questions like that filled my head to the brim. But of course, without voicing them Renko wouldn’t notice. </p><p>Renko was about to leave when she turns back to me once more. “Tonight, same time at your place?”</p><p>Those words comforted me. They brought me back down to earth.</p><p>But I hesitate to nod back. The irritation I felt earlier could not be quenched by her calm, soothing words. It feels unbearable. I can’t stand it. </p><p>“...Today I don’t feel well, Renko. Let’s do it another time.”</p><p>The moment I utter those words though, I avert my eyes away. I don’t want to see what expression she’s making right now, nor do I want her to see mine. </p><p>I hear Renko shuffling her feet on the floor. A pause. “Sure. If you don’t feel well, we can postpone it.” </p><p>Immediately I feel a desperate urge to try to convince her otherwise even though I’m the one refusing her. But the words that come out of my mouth feel so hollow and insincere. “You were looking forward to tonight. I’m sorry.” </p><p>“You don’t have to apologize. It's not a big deal.” She panics and waves her hands up in the air as if to swat away my worries. “Really.”</p><p>I feel her lay her hands on my shoulders, trying to reassure me. Our eyes meet. She’s standing and I’m not, so I find myself looking up to meet her gaze.“I was looking forward to going outside with you tonight. If you don’t feel well enough to go out, then of course I don’t want to go out either.”  </p><p>Unable to say anything, I only nod weakly.</p><p>Renko smiles and lets go. “Do you need me to take you home? Or to buy groceries for you?” </p><p>I shake my head sideways.</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll be going then. Tell me if you need me to come over later.” Renko declares, and I feel the weight in my chest grow. </p><p>Don’t go. </p><p>I did not have the courage to put two quotation marks around those two very simple words. </p><p>Instead I show her a strained smile and give her insincere words. “Have fun, Renko.”</p><p>Renko narrows her eyebrows, but she doesn’t push further. “Mm. See you tomorrow.” </p><p>The door shuts and Renko disappears from my sight. Once she’s gone, I had no one to distract me from the weight buried in my chest. I no longer paid attention to the cafe. The scenery lost its color to my eyes.</p><p>I start to wonder why I’ve come to feel this way. To feel so bothered that Renko has other people that she talks to. I do not remember since when, but each iteration of it is stronger than the last. </p><p>If I think back to our first meeting a year go, this wasn’t the case. I was initially hostile to Renko and it took me a while to warm up to her. Once she discovered my eyes, she asked me to help her go around and look for supernatural occurrences. We’ve been together ever since.  What has happened since then to make me like this? I think back over our interactions since, but it’s no good. We meet too often. Before I knew it our regular circle meetings had piled up and it’s impossible for me to wade through it all. </p><p>My thoughts are interrupted as I feel a headache coming over. My hand grasps the side of my forehead. For some reason, ever since I was young my eyes don’t see very well when my head hurts. Black spots appear in my vision and I become unable to recognize letters. It’s like my body’s telling me to stop thinking. </p><p>Even so, my eyes wander, desperate to look at anything to distract myself from the pain. </p><p>But there is nothing here. </p><p>Renko is nowhere to be seen, of course. </p><p>I quickly leave and struggle my way home. </p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>By the time night has fallen, the headache didn’t go away and now it was making me nauseous</p><p>As if my body is determined to turn the lie I told Renko into the truth, sweat wouldn’t stop pouring out of my skin and the urge to throw up fills my throat. Strands of hair cling to the side of my face, sticky with moisture. The sensation torments me to no end. </p><p>I lean my weight onto the kitchen sink in my apartment room while breathing frantically. The weight of my head feels wrongly distributed, as if each blood vessel inside is pulling towards a different direction. It’s splitting my brain apart. The nausea was strong enough to render me unable to move. I remained in this position for an uncertain amount of time I couldn’t tell apart. It felt like an hour and a minute at the same time. </p><p>I see my reflection on the stained steel of the sink. The distorted sight of my own eyes looking back at me disgusts me to no end. I look away. </p><p>Unless I fall asleep, this headache won’t go away. With great effort I move over to my bed and fall on it. Changing out of my sweat-stained blouse is the last of my concerns. I want this ringing inside my head to stop. Forever. I want to escape. Yet the myriad pains that assault it keeps my consciousness anchored.</p><p>My thoughts wander to Renko. I imagine her nursing me, changing me out of my clothes, wiping my sweat off. The thought of someone caring for me soothes me. I feel my breathing slow down. </p><p>Little by little my consciousness dims and fades away.</p><p>The next morning, my headache was gone and my body felt light, as if what happened last night was just a bad dream. The stains on my clothes and the unpleasant smell that filled the room did not lie though. </p><p>I look out to the sky, but then I remember I couldn’t tell the time that way. If I had to guess, I was already late for my class, but I would make it for lunch with Renko if I hurry. But again I hesitate. </p><p>I don't know why, but I don’t want to see Renko right now. If I ditch all my classes today, I could use the day to clean up and rest. Renko wouldn’t mind, she’s kind and understanding enough. Although we’ve had lunch together almost every day since we’ve met, we’ve still only known each other for a year anyway. Missing out a few times isn’t unusual. </p><p>But then I imagined what if I don’t go today, Renko might eat with someone else. What an unpleasant mental image. Why do I find it so unpleasant?</p><p>I couldn’t find an answer to that, so I pushed myself up and got dressed.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>A frowning Renko is such a rare sight that for a moment I was baffled, speechless as I walked over to our regular table at the cafe. Once she sees me however, her frown warps into full-blown worry. </p><p>“Look at you! You look terrible. What happened?” Renko abandons her seat and approaches me, her hands straighten my hair strands and the folds of my clothes. “You look like you haven’t slept at all. I was worried after you said you didn’t feel well, I should’ve paid more attention to you.”</p><p>I brought my hand up to my face. Certainly, my skin feels a little dry to touch. I looked into a mirror earlier and I wasn’t looking bright, but I thought I did my best to look presentable. To have Renko be so concerned over me, what a blunder on my part. </p><p>Renko grasps my wrist and pulls it closer to her. “When I LINE’d you earlier, you should’ve just refused and stayed home or something. You shouldn’t have come. You feel so...frail.”</p><p>“But then, I felt bad for not going out with you yesterday so...”</p><p>“That doesn’t matter, god!” Renko looks at me, exasperated. “Just sit. Let’s order something to eat, okay? You look like you haven’t eaten either.” </p><p>She pulls away and walks back to her seat. I sit down in the seat opposite hers. Having something to lean my weight on does help. </p><p>Renko hands me the menu and I flip over the pages. I wasn’t in the mood to eat though, but it looks like Renko won’t talk to me until I order something. I randomly point to an item or two to the waitress.</p><p>“So how did it go yesterday? With that girl you were tutoring?” I break the silence, with a topic I normally dreaded and would never have brought up on my own. </p><p>“That’s not important. I’m more concerned about you right now, you know?”</p><p>“Of course it’s important.” I blurt out. Renko raises her eyebrows. “I mean well, I was looking forward to hearing about it. You’re always eager to talk about your friends so…”</p><p>“Merry.” She calls my name, interrupting me. She looks at me with a smile that tells me she’s trying to reassure me. “Let’s talk about you now. I don’t care about anyone else. Just you, alright?”</p><p>“I’m...all right.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” </p><p>“Of course I’m sure.” </p><p>“Then, tell me what happened with you last night.”</p><p>I swallow my words. I feel a strong revulsion to telling her the truth. “I drank myself into a hangover.”</p><p>“Even though you don’t like alcohol? Especially the old kind that actually gets you drunk?” Renko notices my lie right away. </p><p>I try to frame the conversation in a way that gives me more control.  “Umm… are you angry at me or something, Renko?”</p><p>But she has the perfect counter to that too. “Do you think so? Why do you think I might be?”</p><p>Slowly but surely, Renko is cornering me. With her superior communication skills and her unwavering, logical mind. Her eyes stare straight into mine and I feel trapped within their precise gaze. </p><p>To be on the receiving end of Renko’s fierce and merciless search for the truth, I panic.</p><p>“I don’t understand...” The words flow out of my head before I could shut them away. “Why are you angry, Renko? My eyes still work. I can still help you look for mysteries. There shouldn’t be anything for you to feel dissatisfied over.”</p><p>Renko’s behavior so far confuses me. She should’ve become angry at me when I refused her yesterday, not now. I just cannot make sense of that. I could not tell if I should continue to voice out what is on my mind. I feel like I shouldn’t have, but it’s unlikely that Renko would have let the conversation end here anyway. </p><p>“I can still be useful to you even if I’m just a little under the weather. I thought you’d be happy to see me show up today, so why would you tell me to go back home and rest? As long as I can see, as long as my eyes work, you shouldn’t have to worry about me.That’s none of your concern, is it?”</p><p>“...What do you mean by that?”</p><p>I pause. Renko isn’t smiling. </p><p>Renko says my name. My full name, that she always complains about for being too long and difficult to pronounce. She asks me. “Is that really what you think I would say? Is that how you see me?”</p><p>I feel a lump form in my throat. Suddenly it feels like there’s a wall between us. “Did I say something wrong, Renko?” </p><p>Renko looks away from me for the very first time. It was always me who breaks eye contact first, never her. It is as if Renko has lost all interest in me. </p><p>“Sorry, today I’m... I’m not feeling it. I’m going home.” Renko stands up with no attempt to hide her boredom in her voice. </p><p>“Renko, wai-” I attempt to stop her but she waves me away. She places money on the table. More than enough to pay for both of us.   </p><p>“I’ll see you later. Take care of yourself.” Renko leaves the cafe without looking at me. My eyes cling to the door long after it has closed. </p><p>I look down at my hand that I tried to reach out to Renko with. As I drew closer to her, she pulled away. That more than anything hurts me so. </p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>Once again that night, I suffered a strong headache that left me unable to stand properly. But I found myself wishing the nausea was strong enough to distract me from my worries. It wasn’t.</p><p>I spent the whole day after our meeting worrying over Renko’s words. I replayed the scene over and over in my head. I thought over where I should’ve stayed silent, or lied about what I was thinking. How should I have acted to prevent this outcome?</p><p>What did I do wrong? </p><p>I do not understand the cause of Renko’s anger, so that is what I have to figure out first. </p><p>But no matter how much I look over my actions today, I don’t see anything wrong. But clearly I have done something wrong. Why else did she look at me with such pity and disdain?</p><p>Once I accept that I cannot figure out what Renko’s problem is, I worry instead over how our relationship will be from now on. But no matter how much I thought about it I couldn’t come to an answer for that either. With such crippling uncertainty tormenting me, I had no means of escape from the pain inside my head.</p><p>The next morning I wake up without a trace of nausea. Instead my body feels very heavy, but that was the last of my concerns. I look at my phone and see no new messages from Renko since the day before. </p><p>Did I make her so angry that she would never talk to me again? </p><p>Even though we’ve known each other for a year, now we’re cutting our relationship. Will Renko find someone else, someone better to be friends with? If she wanted to, she could do that so easily after all. Putting aside my eyes, I don’t have any value at all. She can replace me any time.</p><p>If I think about what needs to be done, then of course I need to go meet Renko again and talk and find out from the person herself what her problem is. But I feel so afraid that my legs won’t move.</p><p>I imagine a scenario where Renko had already abandoned me for someone else. If I were to show up before her and see her talking to someone else, I wouldn’t be able to stand it.</p><p>Again the same question haunts over me. Why do I feel the way I do when Renko talks to someone else? What do I call this feeling?  </p><p>I strongly desire for her to contact me right this moment, yet at the same time I feel so relieved that she hasn’t reached out to me and I hope that this lasts. Even the thought that Renko might be with someone else right this moment doesn’t sway me. </p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>Later that night I had a dream. I face myself standing in front of a mirror. The girl reflected in the mirror looks a little different from me though.</p><p>She would look like me if my hair was long and flowing, instead of short and messy. If I were taller and thinner and wore stylish dresses. If my voice was more charming and less timid. If my movements and gestures radiated charisma instead of hesitation. If my eyes were sharper and could see further than they do now. I saw such a person on the other side of the mirror. </p><p>My first thought is that it’s absurd for my dream to frame this as a reflection of me in a mirror. To become someone like this would be my ideal, so it is only dishonest to show this as my reflection. The very idea of standing and facing this reflection is wrong. The proper posture I should take is to kneel and hang my head down in shame. I do not even dare to look at this ideal.  Yet here I am standing still. </p><p>I begin to wonder what kind of person I would be if I was born this way. How would I think of myself as I am now? How would I think of Renko? Would I have come to like and depend on her? </p><p>We would likely have a more equal relationship, of that I have no doubt. If the person next to Renko was not me as I am now, but someone she properly deserves.  </p><p>But then, if that someone is not me then it does not actually matter who they are. Whether that is an idealized version of me, or an entirely different individual. There is no difference between the two.</p><p>Someone who to me is perfect, absolutely cannot be me after all. </p><p>If that is the case then perhaps, I don’t need to feel so ________ when Renko talks to other people. </p><p>I can finally relax once I accept that. It would make everything so much easier.</p><p>But then my reflection giggles condescendingly at me. As if it has a mind of its own. As if it's telling me my conclusion is still wrong. </p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>How long have I stayed cooped up in my room since then? I have long lost count. I wake up, find something in my fridge to eat, kill time rereading books and then go back to sleep. I haven’t bothered to attend class and I’ve stopped looking at my phone entirely. I turned it off and threw it somewhere. Even though realistically speaking it can only have been a few days since, it wouldn’t surprise me if the seasons have changed. </p><p>Every time I think of going outside, the slightest hint of nausea begins to assault me. It’s not very strong, but it’s enough to deter me. And then at night the nausea comes back stronger and I lose motivation to do anything other than sleep.  </p><p>I start to wonder, does the outside world exist at all? The only hint of such a thing is the slight brightness shining through the curtains of my room every now and then. How then can I be sure that anything exists outside this room? Such absurd thoughts were the only means I had to distract myself. I acknowledge these thoughts to be absurd, but they become more believable the more I entertain them. I even lost the will to open the curtains to look at the outside world. I don’t want to see it.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>What if I never step outside of this room ever again? </p><p>It certainly isn’t possible. I will starve and die unless I go out to eat soon. The bills won’t pay themselves, and at some point the neighbors will worry. But that’s fine, isn’t it? The outside world doesn’t exist after all. Then there’s no reason to worry about any of that. </p><p>Yet, as if all these questions I ask to myself didn’t matter at all, my thoughts hone in on the real reason I’ve come to fear going outside with unwavering accuracy.</p><p>I’m afraid of what Renko would say should we meet again. </p><p>If I never go outside again then I won’t have to meet her. If she comes by anyway, I can just lock the door and shut her out.</p><p>Even though I’ve struggled so much for my thoughts to not arrive at this step, it feels inevitable. My thoughts and my dreams guide me back to Renko no matter how hard I try to turn away. </p><p>It’s because of this emotion I feel inside my chest. It emerges whenever I think of Renko, whenever Renko pays attention to someone else, whenever I am with her and whenever I am alone. It mercilessly controls how I think and leaves me with no hope of resisting it. </p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>My brain attempts to resist it anyway. Earlier I wondered whether anything exists outside this room. To take that thought to its logical conclusion, does Renko exist? Would I rather she exist or not?</p><p>But even as I am now, that’s not a question I need to even entertain. <b>Of course I want her to.</b> I don’t want to meet her, but I don’t want to have never met her even more. I am so certain that this is how I feel. The ease at which I came to that answer should tell me all I needed to know about how I feel, but I still don’t want to acknowledge it. </p><p>I want a distraction, and this small apartment room won’t suffice. </p><p>Driven by an emotion I still refuse to name, I make my way to the door, nausea and blindness assaulting me all the while. I feel for the doorknob. My finger comes into contact with the cold, hard steel of the door handle. I take a deep breath, and push it outward. </p><p>My eyes clear up and I see the sky, unevenly divided by tall concrete buildings, sprawled out before me. Its blue hue was intense enough to assault and overload my sense of vision. I cover my face with my hands to lessen how much I could see.</p><p>But the sensation of damp air and the intense afternoon sunlight hitting my skin, the slight breeze and the scent of summer that it carries, they tell me the outside world exists. I feel no doubt about this. Even though with these same eyes I cannot see beyond what I can see, I am certain the world exists beyond it. Because that’s what my feelings tell me. That’s what I want to feel. Because I want Renko to exist. </p><p>I step outside into the apartment hallway and feel the stone floor with my bare feet. </p><p>It was only a few days, but it felt like ages since these eyes have seen what this city looks like. This city of Kyoto that Renko and I have explored together so thoroughly. </p><p>I want to meet Renko, but my heart still dreads that meeting. So I won’t think about her for now. </p><p>Instead I want to go somewhere. Anywhere that isn’t my cold, dark apartment room. Anywhere at all would be fine. </p><p>…</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>I walk around with no particular destination in mind. I considered getting on the bus, but I don’t want to sit next to someone else. Kyoto is easy to walk around anyway, even though it's summer.</p><p>After some time I arrive at a shopping mall building. There’s a bus stop in the area on the other side of the road, and the openness of the area with its trees and benches decorating the stone sidewalk resembles a park. Judging from the signs and boards put up, it seems like there’s a community event going on inside. </p><p>Perhaps out of a desire for stimulation of any kind, I head in. I took the escalator up and walked around until I found the entrance to one of the event halls. There’s a large door and a reception desk in front of it with a counter with several books lined up. </p><p>Next to it was a sign that says ‘The catalog is your entrance ticket. Please buy one before entering!’</p><p>I look at the cover of the so-called catalog book the event is selling. I frown. A colorfully drawn illustration of girls clad in fancy, frilly dresses decorated the cover. I read out the title. </p><p>“The annual Comifes offline meet event?”</p><p>It’s one of those otaku conventions. With people dressing up as characters, or buying expensive merch, or selling fan-made comics. I wasn’t into this kind of thing really so I considered putting the catalog down and walking away to look for some other curio to occupy myself with. </p><p>But as I hear the bustling inside the hall on the other side of the door, my grip on the book tightened. </p><p>I feel myself letting out a loud sigh. Something like this sounds like it could distract me from my thoughts. After spending the past few days in my room, even someone like me would crave to be around other people no matter how much I disliked them. It made me hope that <em> something </em> could happen if I only had the courage to walk through this door. Maybe I’ll run into Renko here, although I’m trying to avoid her in the first place so that’s a strange thought to have. </p><p>I hand the cashier my money and take my copy to show the guard at the door. He nods and lets me through. </p><p>I step into a new world. </p><p>The hall is about the size of a high school gymnasium. Instead of sports equipment however, I see rows of desks and boards lined up. Each table is its own booth with people manning them and displays of merchandise, art and so on. And then there is everyone else in the venue. People walking around the booths. People resting near the walls looking over what they’ve accumulated. People dressed up in cheap, colorful costumes on the other side of the hall and people with cameras taking pictures. No one is perfectly still. The summer heat won’t let them stay still.</p><p>Except for me, I am looking at all this from somewhere far away. It doesn’t need to be said, but my eyes do not see a single thing out of place here. It’s an entirely normal gathering of people that Renko would never be interested in.</p><p>I decide to walk around. Everyone is in constant motion so all I have to do is follow their lead. Even though it's this packed with people I didn’t even have to make contact with the others within the crowd. The stench of everyone’s sweat is unbearable though. </p><p>I didn’t recognize any of the characters displayed at each booth. A disproportionate amount were of unrealistically cute, buxom girls. Even more than that, so many of these are porn and smut too. Does it not bother anyone here that they’re being seen consuming this stuff? </p><p>I notice one of the small booths near the center of the hall had a poster of a character I vaguely recognize. It's an unrealistically cute buxom girl character that I’ve seen in advertisements on the train. If I remember right, she is a mobile game character specifically. People who play these games have a reputation for sinking an inordinate amount of their disposable income into them. They've been popular in Japan since a few hundred years ago when they had their boom. </p><p>I know nothing else about this character though, so I feel no connection to them. I walk away. </p><p>There is nothing else in the venue space that remotely interests me. Already I regret the small amount of money I spent on the catalog to come in here. </p><p>I think to turn around when I bump into someone walking in and I fall to the ground. </p><p>“Are you alright?” An ugly voice calls to me. </p><p>I look up to the person offering their hand to me. </p><p>It was an overweight man with a bright bandana wrapped around his head. He was covered from head to toe with clothes depicting a two-dimensional female character including even his face mask. On closer look, it was the exact same character I recognized earlier. He looks as if he hasn’t groomed himself in a week, and frankly speaking he looks like a complete failure of a human being. Exactly the type of person to obsessively play one of those phone games. Exactly the type to come to an event like this. I felt a strong revulsion and pulled my hand away.</p><p>“Well, if you’re fine then…” The man turns around and walks away, unfazed. His eyes are already glued to one of the booths in the distance that displayed some kind of artwork for the same character that decorated every part of him. On closer look, that was the exact booth I had stopped at earlier too. </p><p>I keep my eyes on him. From this distance I can’t see his expressions or movements very well but I can tell he just bought something from the booth. Then he walks away and heads to another booth for the same character and purchases something again. And again. And again. </p><p>Doesn’t he get sick of that character? And how much money is he planning to dump into this? It was like looking at a lunatic. This failure of a person who surely had no fulfilling human relationships has turned to the fictional and virtual to satisfy himself if only momentarily. </p><p>For some reason, that fat, gross otaku’s behavior seemed somewhat familiar and that bothered me greatly. </p><p>Although I would never waste my time talking to someone like this normally, I make my way through the sweat-filled crowd towards him. </p><p>“Hey.” I call out to him.</p><p>He turns around. “Oh, that lady from earlier. What’s up?” </p><p>I point to his headband. To his clothes. To the event shopping bags he held in his hands. “What’s the deal with that character?” </p><p>The man’s gross face lights up. “Ohh! This girl is-” </p><p>“No I don't care.” I cut him off. Ignoring his dejected expression, I continue. “She’s your ‘wife’ or whatever, right? Well?”</p><p>Confused, the man nods reluctantly. </p><p>“How can you be so dedicated to a fictional character?” I ask him. “She’s not real, is she? And even if she was, she probably wouldn’t pay attention to you at all. Why do you spend money on her? Why do you waste your time thinking about her? What do you get out of it?”</p><p>I must be very rude right now. Even if it’s someone like this loser, to have someone come and randomly interrogate you must be unpleasant at least. </p><p>“...Uhh, is this some kind of haras-”</p><p>“Just. Answer me. Please.” </p><p>“...”</p><p>I can’t see his eyes through the thick lens glasses he wore. </p><p>Although I did ask him, it seems like he's actually thinking about the question seriously and that surprises me.</p><p>“How, you ask? That’s rather difficult to say…”</p><p>Around us people were walking around. People just like this gross otaku. No one pays attention to us standing in the middle of the crowd. </p><p>“You ask me all these questions out of the blue so I tried thinking about them a bit, but it’s not easy to give you an answer. I know that people like you look down on people like us and I won’t deny what you’re thinking in your head but… Hmm…” </p><p>The man crosses his arms. </p><p>“I’m passionate about this character. About the game she comes from, and the scenes she’s in. I enjoy it when I think about her, and I enjoy it when I get to talk about her to other fans. I enjoy all of that so I continue to play her game and come to these events. I really don’t think I have a deeper reason.”</p><p>Passion. That was the word he chose to describe his relationship to this fictional character. It’s this exact passion that lets phone game companies exploit him for his income in the first place. </p><p>“Maybe this isn’t what you wanted to hear though.” He grunts. </p><p>“No, I appreciate your answer.”</p><p>I understand why this is the only answer he can give. </p><p>Feelings and the words to describe them are actually very far away from each other. By putting your feelings into words you also obfuscate and distort them. The mind confuses itself when it notices the gap between how it feels and the closest word it knows that describes it. </p><p>So I mustn’t describe this feeling for Renko inside me. </p><p>Yet as I see this person in front of me describe his with pride, I feel so envious. How much courage does it take to say that out loud to a complete stranger? I cannot even begin to fathom. This person in front of me has chosen the word passion to describe how he feels. He’s accepted how the word passion distorts his interpretation of his feelings towards a certain way, so he’s perfectly satisfied with his current way of life. </p><p>If I can give form to my feelings, put them into words, will I know what I should do? Will I understand why Renko was angry at me? </p><p>I feel the urge to talk to Renko. I dig into my shoulder bag but I can’t find my phone. Then I remember it’s still somewhere in my room. I’ll have to go back and search for it. </p><p>As I turn around to leave, I hear the man from earlier call out to me. </p><p>“Hey! I don’t know what’s going on but, I hope you found something you liked from this con!”</p><p>I smile to myself. I hope I did too.</p><p>…</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>After mulling it over for another week, I sent Renko a LINE message. </p><p>
  <em> Why do you go out looking for strange things? </em>
</p><p>The read receipt appeared the moment I sent it. A few seconds later her reply arrives.</p><p>
  <em> because its interesting </em>
</p><p>I raise my eyebrow at her choice of words. So that’s how Renko chooses to describe it. What does that word mean to her? Is her understanding of what ‘interesting’ means compatible with mine? </p><p>I arch my head up and sigh. Our first real conversation since that time and that’s all I can say. I’m too afraid to say something more meaningful, more substantial. To ask is to reveal your own ignorance, and to ask a question you yourself are afraid of requires a great courage. Courage is absolutely the last word I would use to describe how I feel. </p><p>Still, I must ask her. </p><p>
  <em> Even when it’s with me? </em>
</p><p>Again, the read receipt appeared immediately. But this time a response doesn’t follow. </p><p>I stare into the phone screen, bright enough to illuminate part of my room. I have to know no matter what.</p><p>Just as the lack of a response became painful enough for me to lower my phone to the ground, it vibrates with a new message.</p><p>
  <em> of course it is </em>
</p><p>I read over those four words again and again. I still don’t know the reason why Renko was angry at me, and it likely will take me a long time to understand it. But it feels like I might be able to someday. That might be enough.</p><p>I type out one word to respond. </p><p>
  <em> Okay. </em>
</p><p>...</p><p>..</p><p>.</p><p>As summer nears its end, the first hint of spring begins to show itself. I sit down on a bench underneath the newly bloomed cherry blossoms next to the library building. The shade accompanied by a slight breeze cools me down as I stare out into the distance. </p><p>I’m reminded of how seasons used to work the other way round. Apparently spring used to turn into summer, summer to fall, and then fall to winter. How weird. The climate change crisis a few centuries ago irreparably changed how our environment functioned. </p><p>On the other side of the courtyard walking blissfully to her next class while talking with two of her friends is Renko, unaware that I am here a few meters away. One of them is the girl sitting behind us duing that class a while ago.</p><p>I no longer feel irritated at this sight.</p><p>After that text conversation, I called Renko back and we talked. It didn’t go as smoothly as I expected, but it worked out. We left it unsaid, but we’ll probably keep meeting up for our circle activities like we’ve always had. And in the future we’ll probably look back to this as nothing more than a meaningless little episode. </p><p>I still have yet to decide on the right word to assign to how I feel, but I don’t think I have to hurry. I probably have a lot of issues I need to work through first. Until I reach the point where I can put it into words though, it seems unlikely for that feeling to come to fruition. </p><p>But I have come to accept it. Along with the possibility that someday we might grow apart and Renko finds a better friendship with someone else. It’s impossible to prevent that and all I can do is wait and see.</p><p>I think back to that period of time when those violent headaches assaulted me at night. After I had made up my mind and accepted this, they stopped occurring entirely. I have the slightest inclination that it was supernatural in some way, but as my eyes couldn’t see when those headaches came, I naturally wouldn’t know for sure if they were. And since there was no way I could tell Renko about these episodes, she’ll never know about them or get to investigate them. So there’s no need to find out.</p><p>I check the time. I still have seven minutes until my next class in the building in the opposite direction. I won’t need that long until Renko disappears from my sight, then I can finally stand up and leave myself.</p><p>But then…</p><p>Renko turns around and waves to me. </p><p>From this distance I couldn’t see what kind of face she was making even as I squinted, but her body language conveyed it anyway.</p><p>I ask myself what posture I should take in response to that. But I already know the answer. </p><p>I raise my arm up and wave back, compelled by a strange feeling inside me.</p>
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